Thursday, January 06, 2005

The one resolution I didn't make is the one I keep

Went out for beers last night with High School Acquiantance who is now living in DC. Third time hung out with him since Election Night Horror Event, and v. much enjoying company. Is especially pleasant given that in high school I had written him off as an unconscionable douchebag. Being proven utterly wrong and a judgemental bitch has rarely resulted in such a nice friendship. So, huzzah to getting over oneself!

Beers were had at the Dirty Pigeon, sight of many little crimes from many years ago. The Pige was the only place where, as nineteen-year-olds, we were virtually certain to be let in and not carded. It had the added advantage of being a) down the street from our favorite sketchy Mexican dive restaurant (con Eduardo, el jefe de cocaina) (tho we were strictly there for the exceptionally potent margaritas) and b) full to the brim of Marines from the barracks across the way. Hey, it was 2001. It was our patriotic duty to keep up morale in the armed forces. Leaving the bar last night was a truly novel experience-- I was able to walk without lurching into parked cars, and I was departing with a male friend, not falling on a buzz-cut serviceman from Kansas.

That was the first time since the my pre-New Year's digestive pyrotechnics that I've had a drink, and yes, that was a conscious choice. It's not that I have a problem, or that I think I need help. I really don't. And yes, that is what alcoholics say, but it happens to be true in my case. I'm just not that interested in coming close to a repeat performance of last week. I really screwed up something that could have at least been a great friendship. Now there's someone really nice out there whose main mental image is of me making an ass out of my drunken self. And lets face it, drinking is fun and a great activity, and both my social life and career would suffer permanent damage if I asked people to meet at Cosi instead of a bar. I'm not interested in stopping drinking. It's more about doing it as a grownup, now that the there is no novelty in putting up away messages about the whereabouts of myself and my hangover or cursing the sun for its ability to hurt my eyes so.

The Someone did respond to my mea culpa email in a very nice way. Thank goodness, because I groveled quite enough in it. However, is pretty clear that the door has shut on anything more than being friends, at least for now. So, am back to spending downtime at work prowling the JDate profiles for cute boys. Yes, know am not Jewish, but they tend to be cuter and better writers than the Match boys, and anyways have not had good luck with Match (re: Tongue-Stud Intel Analyst Guy).

In other news, am trying to put together ski weekend for friends over President's Day! Eleven people, five bedrooms, one hottub, one mountain, a stocked kitchen-- will be good times.